


BALANCE

by vizardz



Category: Bleach
Genre: (having a shitty past relationship is hard!), Depression, Multi, There’ll be some heavier themes and this fic will be rated E for a couple pairings I’ll be exploring, Third Person POV, WAIT I CAN EXPLAIN, You’ll see, a mutually pining and yearning Shinji/Urahara, after everyone got frustrated with each other, alcohol and drug use, all relationships in this fic are consensual and adult relationships, also Bleach is long af and I haven’t fully reread it, also some heavier shit like, an unhealthy and conflicted Shinji/Aizen from the TBTP arc, and more tags to come, and that’s it for now, and this is merely a creative exercise, anyway BFFs Shinji and Hiyori search for the other Vizards, as well as some… Shinji/Shinji, before we all get eaten by our uncontrolled inner Hollows, but now oh shit we gotta get the band back together, exploring a woefully underutilized cast of Hella Wonderful characters, feat. Love/Rose and Mashiro/Kensei too, it’s about the Found Family, it’s whatever I make it since some things Tite Kubo did Suck Majorly, jumps around the timeline, other things to tag, since this website has some Wack Shit I wanted to make that explicitly clear, so uhh what is canon, such as, thank you!!, there are explicit scenes but please note, wow being kind of immortal and cursed and away from home does suck real hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 13:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vizardz/pseuds/vizardz
Summary: The Vizards that Ichigo meets are a tight group in full control of their inner Hollows, but they weren’t always that way. Turn back the pendulum, but not so far. The past one hundred years were a lot harder than any of them would ever admit.Or – Why leaving home and nearly losing your soul is pretty damn hard, and none of the Vizards handled it super well. Luckily, things are easier together. (Or - Tite Kubo, what did they do the past 100 years??) In this fic – the Vizards have gone 100 years without ever fully controlling their inner Hollows. They’ve lived precarious, secretive lives on Earth; and after parting ways nearly 90 years ago, they haven’t ever reunited. Shinji has taken up a normal-ish life in Ueno, Tokyo, resigned to dealing with occasionally suppressing his Hollow and never seeing the other Vizards again. But on the 100th anniversary of their expulsion from the Soul Society, Shinji’s lonely life gets unexpectedly interrupted by a surprise visit from Hiyori – and she has terrible news about the potential fate of the Vizards. Can Shinji and Hiyori get the Vizards back together in time, before their inner Hollows truly take over? A storm is brewing, and dealing with your inner demons is anything but easy.





	1. Shinji

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Some quick notes: the story takes place a few months before the Vizards meet up with Ichigo (and the plot will bounce around in the past, too.) The chapter titles will note the POV character and if it's happening sometime in the past hundred years or in the TBTP era. Lots of lore is created and some canon ignored lol. C'est la vie. Stop by my tumblr with questions or just to say hi - vizardz.tumblr.com  
Thank you!!

One hundred years. That was a long time. _Even to a Shinigami-_, Shinji thought and then stopped himself. “Well,” he said under his breath, “even to a Vizard.”

He wasn’t sure who in their motley crew was sentimental enough to remember or care what today meant. He would assume Hachi knew. He was good with things like dates and numbers (as he was the only one of their group who ever remembered and celebrated everyone’s birthday, without fail, for one hundred years.) The rest, Shinji wasn’t sure about. Mashiro and Kensei may be doing something together. Love was sentimental, Rose was melodramatic, and Lisa was sagacious. They all probably knew what today was, but he doubted they were getting drunk alone on a Wednesday night like Shinji was, celebrating (or perhaps mourning) their one hundredth year since being kicked out of the Soul Society.

Well, maybe Hiyori was doing something similar. He wouldn’t know. He hadn’t seen any of them in a few decades.

One hundred years _was_ a long time, but to Shinji, it became much less daunting when viewed manageable portions. He could tab through his pages and pages of memories like chapters in a book. This particular volume of his life started that fateful night one hundred years prior.

Despite happening so long ago, every moment of that final night in the Soul Society was still so fresh in his mind, sharpened from a century of replay and regret. The woods. That fight. The cutting sensation of something new inside him - a part of his soul warping and changing. And then seeing Aizen.

Shinji could vividly recall the overwhelming rush he felt at seeing Sousuke Aizen that night, feeling not only an alarmed betrayal but also a wild vindication, as he realized every single moment of suspicion was absolutely justified, but it was too late.

He couldn’t stay calm long enough to save the others before the change became too much, and he lost himself in it all-

And then, a sudden void of nothingness.

There was a stark gap in his memories here. The next thing he remembered was waking up at Urahara’s hideout on Earth, part-Shinigami and part-Hollow.

For the first few weeks, Shinji wasn’t sure where he ended and the Hollow began. His soul had been broken up and distorted. Everything inside him felt warped, chaotic. He had never experienced such deep despair, such severe lack of control. Simply staying lucid was nearly impossible. Usually, Urahara said the eight of them were simply lost, unable to stay awake for too long. In the few, rare moments of tenuous control, his mind and body felt horribly, viscerally wrong.

Sometimes, that other side of him held the reigns of his body, and he felt an overwhelming and terrifying desire to simply _consume._

Shinji hated it. He hated knowing one of the monsters he’d fought for years was now a part of him. Worse, his zanpakutou’s spirit was gone. He couldn’t find her in his soul. He couldn’t sense her at all, and this terrified him. He was lost without her. He was just lost.

These were dizzying and daunting days. It was a constant battle to stay in control, swinging wildly between a nebulous, panicked consciousness or nearly succumbing to the Hollow. For Shinji, it was increasingly tempting to actually give in. To let go and truly be consumed by that new, alien part of his soul. It’d be so easy to just stop fighting.

Shinji knew it would have been impossible for the eight of them to go on like that, barely treading water with no end in sight. But just when he was about to give up, Urahara finally solved it. He created an antidote and infused it in each of the Vizards.

Urahara was able to devise a method to separate and bury their inner Hollows deep inside their souls, locking them up with a mix of Quincy essence and some strange science Shinji still couldn’t understand. But despite their best efforts, none of the Vizards were able to completely destroy their inner Hollows. After they all nearly died trying to erase the Hollows, Urahara made it clear it would be impossible to fully eradicate that new side of themselves. “The vaccine should hold the Hollows down. Just don’t do anything to lose control, and it should be fine,” he promised hesitantly. “Right now, that’s the best we can do.”

The next five years felt like limbo. They hardly left that hideout in the mountains, and most days were spent experimenting and training with Urahara, regaining their strength enough to find some semblance of balance and somewhat suppress their inner Hollows. _Somewhat._ Shinji never lingered in these distant memories for very long. Painful. Awful. Confusing. All eight of them struggled to not only control their new souls but accept their new fates. Processing what happened and what they became took a great deal of time.

Inadvertently, the eight of them grew very, very close. Before that fateful night, some of the other Vizards were no more special than coworkers and comrades to Shinji. But after training those years together and going through hell, the eight of them felt bound to one another and closer than he ever thought possible. What they had was special. A silver lining, he figured, to losing nearly everything else that mattered in their lives and going through those difficult years together.

And so, through everything, they adapted. They learned what worked and what didn’t. What triggered the Hollows inside and how to push them back down. They weren’t as strong as before. Everyone had lost touch with their zanpakutou spirits, but they could still utilize some of their old Shinigami powers.

It wasn’t perfect, but it would work.

Once solidly back on their feet, the next five years after that were fruitless ventures to search for a true cure in the outside world, looking beyond Urahara’s secluded hideout for anything that could help reverse the Hollowfication. They even tried to resume their old Shinigami work, as much as possible. The weight of their old responsibility didn’t fade fast. They still felt like Soul Reapers. They could still fight Hollows and help spirits move on, but it was so different.

Constantly avoiding detection, constantly subduing their Hollows (fighting and channeling their spiritual energy only exasperated their imperfect restraints), countless thankless battles, and a growing sense of exhausted resentment built among them – all eight Vizards in their own way had to break ties to their old lives. Lives they could never get back, no matter how hard they tried.

These memories were also no fun, and Shinji happily drank to forget.

Frustrated, tired, and no closer to erasing what Aizen had done, the eight of them started to grow apart. A decade of disappointment was bound to wear on everyone, even level-headed Lisa or soft-spoken Hachi. Shinji even had grown tired of being cooped up with the other Vizards, reminded simply by looking at his old colleagues and friends that they were cursed. They were something_ other_ and they were stuck on Earth, probably forever. Their gigai bodies and hybrid souls didn’t seem to age. They could somewhat pretend to be human, but they all had given up on being Shinigami.

But ultimately, Shinji knew it was his fault their group truly fell apart.

It was a night like any other, but Shinji felt something inside him violently snap. _That’s it,_ he thought. He was done.

That night, years of pressurized frustration burst and Shinji told the Vizards that he was out. He packed his bags and absconded to New York, all without telling them where he was going or for how long. “I just can’t do this anymore,” he said simply before leaving them all behind.

He knew this was a shitty move, but Shinji had felt a clawing, desperate, urgent need to get away. Ultimately, he knew that he couldn’t handle another second being their leader. Shinji had become the Vizard’s de facto captain since the start, as he had been the best at controlling his Hollow and the fastest to adapt. He naturally assumed a sort of encouraging, guiding force in their group, but this weight was slowly starting to crush him. So, when it all go to be too much, he left.

He returned to the Vizards' home-base after half a year, but it was only out of a deep, unbearable guilt. And the damage, he felt, was irreparable. The group wasn’t the same after he got back. Soon, they started to splinter.

The first one to truly leave was Hiyori. No surprise, Shinji thought. She was probably pissed. She took off one day, and even though Shinji expected she’d return after a few weeks, she never did. Kensei and Mashiro broke off next. Then Lisa. Then Love and Rose left together. Finally, Hachi sadly told Shinji he needed time alone. And that left Shinji.

_Fine,_ Shinji had thought. _That’s just fucking fine._ He didn’t want to need them anyway.

So, he gave up on all of it, this time for good. Those days of fighting and trying to solve this curse were over. He swore to himself that everything in the past would stay there, and he’d try his best to be as human as possible.

He made his way to Tokyo, opened up a jazz club, and spent twenty-five years there, hiding everything from his old life. Pretending to be mortal was surprisingly easy once he fell into a comfortable rhythm, and he got good at it. It was much easier to forget.

He then got bored and restless, so he simply closed up shop and left the city. He spent the next thirty years wandering around Earth, getting into various debauchery and hijinks but never once running into any of the other Vizards.

He only occasionally had to confront and seal away the angry, irritable Hollow deep inside his soul. It became a familiar practice, though. He had his own unique way of dealing with it. Since the beginning, he dealt with his Hollow a bit differently than the others, but it had become almost comfortable. Routine. He could manage fine with occasionally dealing with that darkness inside him, even if he felt his Shinigami powers were growing rusty with disuse. He simply didn’t care.

After the nomadic lifestyle grew too tiring, he went back and reopened the same old jazz club in Ueno (claiming to be the original owner’s grandson, which Shinji found extremely hilarious) and he’d been in Tokyo for thirty years since then, leading all the way up until today.

How quickly a hundred years vanished.

Now it was Wednesday, the first of August.

“Funny,” he said softly, “it’s also your birthday.” Not that Hiyori was here to acknowledge it. No one was. There wasn’t another soul around in the empty bar.

He had closed the jazz club that whole day, unable to cope with human interaction and seeking a day to simply be alone. He knocked back the half-drunk, lukewarm beer as he lay on the wooden stage that was tucked into the corner of the cozy club.

His jazz club, _Al Revés, _was a well-established but intentionally tiny and secluded concert venue and pub on the first floor of one of the many towering buildings in Tokyo. Shinji enjoyed a more intimate, modest space for music and camaraderie. Not to mention he had all the time and resources to make it exactly how he wanted. The bar was well-stocked with a variety of alcohols and every conceivable mixer. The stage was big enough for a quintet and framed by rich, burgundy satin curtains. Several bright stained-glass lamps sat on each of the small dining tables, casting vibrant light throughout the comfy, open space.

The lamps’ multi-hued glow was multiplied by the expansive mirrored ceiling, giving the space an illusion of height and vastness. It was almost dizzying to look upwards and see the glittering space reflected back in reverse.

Everything from the bar stools to the vintage wallpaper to the gilded picture frames were just a tad opulent, verging on gaudy; but it all somehow cohesively fit together. Shinji did pride himself on having an eye for style. Every detail was considered, even the aroma was cultivated to be warm and rich like cinnamon and bourbon. The walls were tastefully decorated with old jazz concert posters and rare records he had accumulated over the years. People often remarked on how difficult it must have been to find such old, collectible items from decades ago. Shinji would just smile. Pretty easy when you were there in person, he’d think with a bit of secretive bemusement.

He had made a little life for himself. It was a long little life, and certainly not the one he thought he would have had, but it was his.

He sighed deeply and tipsily. He may have gone a bit too far, he thought. He felt moderately drunk, but he lived alone in the apartment right upstairs. It’d be easy to wander up the back staircase and roll into bed. He could even fall asleep on the stage, if he wanted. Tonight, nothing mattered.

Well, he thought grimly, nothing he did _truly _mattered. He stopped the line of thought, feeling too drunk to dive into that river of unnecessary existentialism.

Suddenly, something stirred within him.

His breathing hitched as he felt that terrible coldness shoot through his body.

“Fuck,” he swore, sitting up in a dizzy rush. Shinji could feel it creep up from within - his inner Hollow – that constant, weighty darkness inside him – shaking the walls of the cell keeping him trapped within the deepest layer of his soul. Any moment of weakness was risky, straining the already flawed restraints and allowing the Hollow’s cold energy to leak through the cracks.

Shinji never knew when this would happen, but recently it was taking less and less for him to slip. He couldn’t tell if the Hollow was getting stronger or he was getting weaker. Either way, it seemed as if every week he had to contest it. When this happened, he could feel more and more of the Hollow’s energy seep to the surface like this, breaking through layers of defenses, chilling him to the bone, and threatening to overtake him. In previous decades, he could go weeks, sometimes months, without feeling anything at all.

Now, Shinji glanced at his refection in the mirrored ceiling, and he quickly held his palm against his left eye. That familiar blackness was creeping in from the corner, staining the fringes of his sclera and iris black and yellow. It was a burning cold sensation, spilling inside his head like a thick, chilled ooze. He knew if he didn’t do this quick, the mask would start to materialize and he was not in any state to handle that.

He repressed the instinctual panic. He had to stay calm. He’s done this before, and he could repress the Hollow again.

Shinji wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn that Hollow was laughing. Almost as if taunting him to come down and face him. It was possible, but he wouldn’t.

“No fucking chance,” Shinji said, and he knew the Hollow could hear him. That part of him was always watching, but they only ever met face to face in the occasional, unbearable nightmare. These were rare moments of contact that Shinji loathed, temporary meetings that happened on random nights. A side effect he begrudgingly put up with and never could shake.

But besides the nightmares, Shinji hadn’t actually dived down into his soul that deep, not since attempting to fight the Hollow all those years ago at Urahara’s. And he wasn’t planning on trying that again anytime soon. Especially not tonight.

Shinji braced himself, focusing every ounce of his energy on binding the Hollow away, just like Urahara taught them. Unlike previous decades, though, it was getting harder and harder to push it back down. He didn’t like thinking about the implications of that. He hadn’t lost control of his body in decades, and the thought of losing it again…Shinji stopped himself before he could get swallowed up in those murky waters of anxiety.

He took a deep, shaking breath, letting the heady spiritual energy settle like kicked up leaves. His left eye still burned, icy cold and awful even as the Hollow’s energy retreated back inside.

But part of it all felt…good.

He guiltily couldn’t ignore that some of the spilt-over Hollow energy was dangerously tempting. He hadn’t felt that much power in a long time. He hadn’t felt fully _himself _since he was a captain, and part of his soul yearned desperately to feel the flood of it all again. Of untapped spiritual energy. Of battle. Of pushing himself to the limits and acting on years of training melded with pure instinct.

Not to mention somehow the Hollows’ influence had stained the Vizards’ souls, slanting them more towards intense, raw emotions and occasional strange, Hollow-like yearnings. The lowest parts of his psyche often felt magnified. Shinji hated feeling a streak of some hot, frayed emotion and having to reel it in, knowing it was because of the Hollow.

But worst of all, sometimes he would sense someone’s strong spiritual pressure, and he would feel a terrible, clawing, desperate need to…consume it.

It chilled him to the bone when the line between them felt blurred.

Shinji had intentionally avoided intense, dangerous situations and any sort of fighting for decades for this very reason. It was a constant balancing act to stay in control, and Shinji found it easier to avoid using his spiritual energy all together. He didn’t even feel the same passion or desire to fight like he used to when he was a captain. Just occasional lapses and longings, born partly of lingering nostalgia and partly out of the aftershocks of suppressing the Hollow.

The closest he’d gotten to a battle was about a year ago, and he wasn’t even a part of it. He had seen a Soul Reaper fight a Hollow in Ueno Park one winter night. He had just stood safely away, secretly watching the entire skirmish with a detached air.

He felt nothing as he watched the Shinigami. Not melancholy. Not frustration. Nothing. It had frightened him at first, how little he felt at seeing his old life only a few yards away, but he was so divorced from that world. Being a Soul Reaper was truly just a distant memory.

Occasionally restraining his Hollow was the extent of how much he flexed his spiritual energy. If he was feeling solid enough, he’d sometime channel his reishi to hover in the air for a while, but he couldn’t remember the last time he truly, earnestly used his Shinigami powers. Everything from his old life felt distant. His zanpakutou sat dusty in the closet. He sometimes got an email from Urahara, just checking in, or letters from Hachi wishing him birthday or holiday wishes with no return address.

He hadn’t heard from the others and he hadn’t gone looking for them, even though he’d lay in bed most nights wondering where they were. But he just kept doing what he’s always done, simply living his life here, alone. That was it.

He wasn’t a Soul Reaper anymore. He really wasn’t much of anything anymore.

That’s all he ever would be.

And that was fine.

It had to be fine.

“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass to the ceiling. “Happy fucking Century.”

“Nothing really happy about it,” came a surly voice from across the bar.

Shinji jumped in surprise, sitting up fast on the stage. He stared across to the entry way, where that very distinctive voice came from a very distinctive young woman.

“Just sitting around and drinking alone, dumbass?” Hiyori asked with a smile as she walked through the bar towards him. Shinji was frozen for a moment in pure disbelief, assuring himself he wasn’t dreaming. “Pretty shitty way to celebrate, if you ask me.”

“Well,” he said, taking a shaking breath and returning her wry grin, “y’know, after a hundred years on Earth, I’ve found I’m simply the best company there is.”

“Still as humble as ever. No fuckin’ surprise,” she retorted with her typical sarcasm.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe Hiyori was actually here.

She seemed moderately more subdued than he remembered. She was dressed in a casual, brightly colored tracksuit and simple sandals. Still, she looked exactly the same as the day she left. Her blonde hair was pulled into two pig-tails, and her left canine still stuck out a bit further than the rest of her teeth.

Shinji quickly, self-consciously assessed himself. He was dressed in his typical attire – a patterned button-up tucked into a slim pair pants and one of his usual ties and a pair of his go-to loafers. He brushed a hand up to straighten his hair.

He still felt a chill around his left eye and hastily rubbed it out.

“You good?” Hiyori asked with a note of concern, walking up to sit on the stage next to him. She took one of the beer bottles and instead of reaching for the bottle opener, she uncapped it with her bare hands.

“Sure,” Shinji laughed, “go ahead and have one.”

She slapped his shoulder with an affectionately hard force. “You run a fucking bar. You’ve got beer to spare.”

“I thought you hated beer.”

She shrugged. “After a century, I found some of it doesn’t suck. You didn’t answer my question. Your eye…” She paused, grimacing for a moment. “Still fighting off your Hollow, too, huh?”

Shinji shrugged to assuage her worry and tried to shirk some of the lethargy of inebriation. He hadn’t seen Hiyori in decades and he felt uncomfortably tipsy and dull, more so than he’d like for their big reunion. He certainly didn’t anticipate seeing anyone tonight, let alone her. Although, he wasn’t too worried. He couldn’t help but feel happiness blossoming inside his chest. With her sitting next to him, it felt like no time at all had passed.

“Oh, y’know,” Shinji said with a casual wave of a hand. “Every now and then, but it’s nothing to worry about. No big deal, really.”

Hiyori made a note of agreement. “Yeah, ‘spose so.”

“So you…do you have to do it a lot? Suppress yours?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “Fuckin’ asshole loves to tap dance on my last nerve, but it’s fine. Doesn’t stop me for doing nothing. I can still fight. Sometimes I train every now and then to stay fresh, but it’s not like I go pickin’ fights anymore.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She kicked his leg. “Dickhead.”

They laughed gently then fell into a small lapse of silence.

“Traveling light?” Shinji said, nodding to the long sports bag Hiyori had deposited on the floor. “What’ve you been up to for the past century?”

“Fucking around,” she said with a grin. “Traveling here and there.”

“So specific. These details. I’m riveted.”

“Piss off. None of your business anyway.”

“Nice to know you’re still as charming as ever after all these years. I assume you’re still single.”

“I assume you are, too. The hair, Shinj. It’s a choice.”

“What?” Shinji exclaimed, pushing the short bob behind his ears. “This is stylish.”

“Says the man with a tongue ring.”

“Ah, you noticed. Well, whether it’s stylish or not, I’ve gotten nothing but rave reviews with how I put it to use.”

“Gross pig.”

“Obnoxious gremlin.”

Hiyori suddenly sprung up and decked him. It wasn’t a real punch; they never were. It was the same as kittens play-fighting. Well, definitely probably more painful than that, but Shinji actually laughed as she fumed away and walked to the back of the bar to pour herself a drink. He rubbed his sore nose and followed her.

“I know you didn’t come here just to steal all my booze, Hiyori. What brought you here?” Shinji asked as he leaned on the bar, watching her mix some kind of vodka concoction. She actually seemed pretty adept at creating a quick cocktail.

“I fucking hate humans,” she said with a scoff. “I just got annoyed and bored. So I wandered in here, and there you were.”

“Sure. Sure. What a coincidence. And why today?”

“It’s a special day, fuckward. That’s why.”

“I know,” Shinji said. “Your birthday.”

Hiyori paused over the second drink she was making. She shook her head.

“Yeah and…y’know, like. It’s…it’s the big one hundred. One hundred years since we had to leave, and since we…since all that shit happened.”

Shinji took a deep breath. He was going to say something witty or light to break the heavy pall that fell over the two of them, but he didn’t have it in him. He just nodded.

Hiyori pushed one of the drinks towards him. “Cheers and drink with me so I don’t feel like shit, okay?” she asked. Shinji softly smiled and held the cold tumbler in his hands.

“Cheers to what?” Shinji asked. Hiyori rolled her eyes.

“I don’t care. How about cheers to not losing our minds to our inner Hollows or getting killed by our old friends in the Soul Society?”

“Perfect.”

“And-,” she paused. “Cheers to…Cheers to not giving up.”

Shinji laughed gently. “Surprisingly touching, Yori.”

“Don’t ruin this moment, baldy. Fucking cheers, okay?”

They tapped glasses and knocked back the drink. Shinji grimaced and couldn’t help but cough as it went down. “Hiyori, that’s so fucking strong,” he wheezed. “That was like straight vodka.”

Hiyori scoffed. “Weak. I think even Hachi could out drink you.”

Shinji balked. “Have you seen them?” he asked.

“What the others?”

Shinji nodded.

“Nah,” she said with a shrug. “Have you?”

Shinji debated bluffing but instead defaulted to the truth with her. “No.”

“Have you looked for them?”

“No. I honestly don’t know how to find them.”

She nodded. “Sounds about right. Kisuke did a good job with these bodies. We’re hard to track. Our spiritual pressure is completely masked. I can’t even feel yours, and you’re right here in front of me.”

“How’d you find me, then?”

“Saw your ugly face at a crosswalk in Shibuya. Followed you here. Fate, maybe.”

Shinji smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I wondered if you guys would’ve stuck together after I left,” Hiyori said quickly, dousing her glass with more vodka and cranberry juice. “But once I got going, I wouldn’t’ve known how to find you even if I wanted to. Guess I could’ve tried to find Kisuke. I know he got a new hideout somewhere, and I figure he keeps tabs on all us as much as he can, but I really didn’t want to see him either.”

“Same here. I haven’t talked to him in years.”

“Yeah. After everything…y’know, he’s done enough. I rather do shit on my own.”

“Exactly,” Shinji said softly. “Did you try, though? Did you look for us?”

She shrugged. “A little. What, you miss me?” She smiled wryly. “I betcha did. C’mon, admit it. Do you miss the ol’ Vizard team?”

“Of course, I do. Every day. You know I miss them, and I missed you and-,” he paused.

_Uh-oh,_ he thought to himself. He was drunk. Shinji knew himself well enough to know that drunk Shinji is prone to sentimentality and a desperate yearning for reciprocated tenderness, especially now, with one of his best friends, after so long. It had been so, so long.

He was getting overwhelmed. He felt the weight of everything hit him hard. His body was getting nervy, anxious – he had so many memories he wanted to share with her. So much reminiscing he longed to dive into with someone else who could recall all the places he missed and the people they’ve lost. Decades of repressed loneliness threatened to crack him open, and there’d be no way he could recover. He was losing his composure too quickly, feeling the slippery slope of falling into the past with someone who’s been through nearly everything with him. Especially Hiyori. She was really here again. He really missed her so much. He missed her the most.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He didn’t want to turn into a mess on the first night she saw him. He couldn’t. He had too much pride to let her see him that way. So, instead, he got up in a huff and smiled.

“Well, happy one-hundredth Hollow birthday to us and here’s to another hundred or finding a cure or something. Who knows!” He knocked back the rest of his drink and pointed upstairs. “Take the stairs in the back, my apartment’s up there. There’s extra bedding in the office with the green wallpaper.”

Hiyori was reading right through him, and he knew it. She narrowed her eyes and sipped on her drink.

“Going out?” she asked.

“Yeah, just for a bit. I have to see someone.”

“Ooh, who?”

“A…friend.”

“Ah, going out to get laid, huh?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Hiyori.”

“Just being honest.”

“Blunt.”

“Wait, do you have weed?”

“What? No. But I just need air. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Shinji gathered up his jacket from the coatrack as Hiyori got comfortable on one of the sofas in the corner. Shinji turned around, hand on the front door, and looked at her. She was browsing through some record sleeves and promptly ignoring him.

“Lock up behind me. I got a spare key.”

“Sure thing.”

“Be careful with the record player.”

“I’ll be sure not to breathe on it wrong, nerd.”

“Don’t…,” he lingered. “Don’t leave, okay?”

Hiyori paused, but after a moment, she laughed. “I won’t. I told you, Shinj. I’m bored.” She looked at him with a soft, steady gaze that he hadn’t seen in so long. “That’s it, okay? I’m just bored, but I won’t skip town just yet. Maybe I…I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe we can catch up more tomorrow. I kinda missed you. Just a little, okay? Not a lot. Just missed you, sorta.”

“Same here.”

“Cool.”

Shinji nodded and left the bar, quickly walking away through the hot August night before he could let any more memories spring up from deep within his soul. He wasn’t ready. He just wasn’t ready to see her.

Hiyori was his best friend. He never met anyone who he trusted more than her, no one else in the past hundred years or the hundreds of years before that in the Soul Society even came close. They got on each other’s nerves constantly, no doubt, and he sometimes couldn’t stand her prickly attitude. But he loved her still. They both had drunkenly admitted this one night when they were still back at the Shinigami Academy.

“You’re, like, my best bud,” Hiyori had said, both of them merrily inebriated as they sat outside drinking on a warm autumn night. “So, you know I love you, right?”

Shinji laughed giddily. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, too.”

“But like, not romantically, got it? Don’t go getting the wrong idea.” Hiyori had leaned in close and looked at Shinji right in the eyes. “Don’t you ever go thinkin’ we’ll end up together or something. You ain’t my type. You’re too fuckin’ weird and too goddamn tall.”

“Me? Too tall? I think you’re just pretty short.”

She smacked his shoulder. Shinji laughed. “Relax, I don’t like you like that, either,” he said. “You know I’ve got a type, too.”

“Yeah, you like lanky motherfuckers who look like you. Goddamn narcissist.”

“Guilty as charged. But, you know that…I…”

Shinji tenderly put his hand on hers. She stared at their hands together. Shinji gave her palm a soft squeeze.

“I’m going to protect you, okay? No matter what.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, but I appreciate the sentiment,” she replied. “…I’m going to protect you, too.”

She had squeezed his hand back. For a moment, the world felt extremely wonderful. Life only got more complicated after that.

They got busy with work. They grew apart. They hardly had time to talk once they started to rise through the ranks. Shinji would’ve chosen her to be his lieutenant if he hadn’t sensed something off about Aizen.

_Aizen-_

_No, don’t think about it. Don’t think about him,_ he thought to himself. Regret was easy to conjure and hard to dispel. This was exactly the winding path of memories he couldn’t handle right now. Especially about Sousuke Aizen. All the things they did together. All the things he missed. All of the goddamn lies and that final night-

Shinji walked quickly away from the bar, pushing every feeling and memory away for later. It wasn’t so different from pushing the Hollow deep down, a problem for future Shinji to handle. Hot and sweaty, he peeled off his jacket and held it over his shoulder as he walked.

When Hiyori left almost ninety years ago, he was certain she’d come back. And then she never did. In a way, Shinji had already given up on ever seeing her again. And then she wandered in on a day like today? It was too much.

And when Shinji felt overwhelmed, he knew ways to distract himself.

He followed a familiar path through the city, hoping on and off the subway after a quick ride. The city was dense. Tokyo was massive. It was the perfect place for someone like him to slip in and hide. His little existence was merely one of the small specks of light in the huge metropolis.

Shinji had grown familiar with some of those other points of light in the city. He had his familiar haunts and comfortable, secluded refuges. He didn’t just hang out at his own bar. On rare nights off like this, he never wasted them. He was planning on ending up at a particular bar tonight anyway, he figured. And the further he got from Hiyori, the more he felt like he was sliding back into his comfortable, human-like routine.

_Maybe it’s better this way_, he thought as he walked up the stairs to one of the tiny bars in Shinjuku. This particular neighborhood was crowded with stories upon stories of small bars and clubs that held no more than a dozen or so people max. Shinji was a regular at a few places, but this one he visited tonight was his favorite. He was a man of fine tastes, and this bar was lovely. It played good music and had excellent company.

Particularly, there was one man who Shinji had been meeting up with occasionally for the past month. He was tall, dapper, visiting from France for business, had excellent taste in cologne, and was a good conversationalist. Shinji was sold. If they both ended up at this bar at the same time, as they did tonight, chances were good that they’d also leave at the same time and wind up at the Parisian man’s apartment.

Shinji woke up in the other man’s bed around six in the morning. He got dressed, collected his belongings, and left without waking him.

Easy, Shinji sighed as he walked down the alley from the apartment. These days, he liked things that were easy. Relationships with humans, Shinji found, were fleeting and best kept simple, ephemeral, and shallow.

Maybe that’s why he was fine dating traveling businessmen and attractive tourists. Soon, of their own volition, they would be gone. He didn’t have to think too long-term with anyone, which was good since humans had a tendency to be fragile, get sick, and die after only a few decades. Shinji never felt too broken up about humans’ ephemeral mortality, not until all of his most important relationships were with them. There were so many people he’d come to cherish and then lose to time, although no one in his life knew anything about his secrets or his past.

Well, there was one person he’d been…seeing…for decades. Someone who knew every inch of him.

He shook it off. No. _He_ didn’t count.

Mortality was certainly a more straightforward matter back in the Soul Society. That was just the cycle of things, the balance he and other Soul Reapers devoted their lives to protecting. That balance still mattered to him, but seeing it from the other side, living among humans, was entirely different. Sometimes, he wondered if it’d be easier to be human and not know about any of this at all. It had to be simpler than being a Vizard.

As he rode the train home, Shinji hazily picked last night’s memories together. He felt so hungover; he actually would be fine if Hiyori wasn’t there to see him in such a state.

“Liar,” he said to himself softly. He’d be crushed if she wasn’t there. He really hoped she was still there. Desperate, nervous worries filled his mind. If she wasn’t, he’d have no way to find her again.

He walked down the quiet morning streets and up to his place. He fumbled in his jacket for the keys, opened the door, and walked into the dark pub. She had shut all the lights off. She had even washed the vodka glasses and gathered the spent beer bottles.

He hesitantly walked up the stairs, an awful concoction of feelings stewing in his stomach. As he entered his apartment, he kicked off his shoes and walked quietly down the hall. The guest bedroom door was cracked open and dim inside. He held his breath and peeked in.

She was there.

Hiyori was deeply sleeping, sprawled out on the futon in the spare bedroom. She had dumped her bag out in the corner, its contents spilled haphazardly on the floor, as if she didn’t intend on leaving anytime soon.

Shinji took a shaking, relieved exhale. He saw the hilt of her sword peeking out from her bag, and he paused. He closed the door and set his thoughts aside.

He wandered aimlessly into the living room, laid on the sofa, and, without intending to, he fell asleep again. 


	2. Hiyori

Hiyori didn’t dream anymore. She really missed stupid, meaningless dreams.

She used to love waking up from the most ludicrous and random dreams, like being a talking bird or rainstorms of fish falling from the sky. Weird shit like that. One time, she had a hilarious dream where Shinji was actually bald. She used to love bringing this one up when they’d run into each other back in the Soul Society. “I have prophetic dreams, y’know. The bald one is definitely happening.” “Oh, shut up,” he’d grumble.

But she just couldn’t dream anymore. Not in the past hundred years. What happened when she slept was either blissful, empty nothingness, if she was lucky. Other times…when she slept, she’d see her.

Tonight, she wasn’t so lucky. She woke up in that room, alone with her inner Hollow.

Hiyori felt cold. After a hundred years, she still felt scared.

“I love that we’re meeting like this more frequently,” the Hollow said with a smile, sitting on the other side of the low, wooden table in the small, dim tatami room. It was raining outside. The sound and smell of the nighttime storm wafted into the space through the wide-open sliding doors. The downpour was staining the wooden balcony outside a deep, dark brown, and the forest beyond looked dark and drenched and endless.

It always was raining when she ended up here; but recently, it’s gotten stormier and stormier every time Hiyori woke up in this corner of her soul. The thought unnerved her. The Hollow unnerved her. Everything about it made her feel sick and angry and terrified.

“Fuck off,” Hiyori spat, getting up from where she sat at the table and crossing her arms tight over her chest. “You don’t know when to quit, huh? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I’m not giving up,” the Hollow said with a shrug. Hiyori hated that she looked exactly like her. Every detail was the same. She even copied clothes and hairstyles whenever Hiyori changed anything on Earth. The only difference was the lack of color. The Hollow was completely monochrome, save for two unnerving yellow irises that sat in pitch black pools. And her voice was different. A slanted version of her own tone, twisted and unsettling.

“I only want what’s best for us,” the Hollow said. “Every time we meet like this, I’m merely trying to convince you I’m doing what’s right. The stronger one of us should be in control, and I’m getting stronger.”

Hiyori scoffed. “Please. You’re just getting desperate.”

“You’re just getting weak.”

A clap of thunder. Hiyori felt her skin break out in chills.

The Hollow leaned back, frustratingly casual despite the raging storm outside. It was freezing. Hiyori wanted nothing more than to shut the doors on the storm or simply walk out of this room. But she knew that, despite multiple attempts, it was impossible. She couldn’t open or close any doors here. They both were stuck here until Hiyori woke up.

This room wasn’t really the deepest layer of her soul where her inner Hollow was actually trapped. As Urahara once described it, it was just a projection – an ephemeral meeting room that was unique to each of the Vizards. It was a place where the Hollow inside their souls could make contact. Hiyori’s room looked oddly like one of the old common areas in the Twelfth Division, and in some ways that brought her comfort. She could remind herself this was nothing more than a small corner of her soul where the Hollow could project herself upwards and where Hiyori’s consciousness could be dragged down – usually for a menacing but harmless chat.

Recently, though, they’ve felt more menacing than harmless. They were starting to become less like an annoyance and more like an actual threat. And in the past hundred years, they hardly happened more than once a month. Now, it was so much, much more often.

“Please,” Hiyori said with a groan. “We’ve done this for a full century, and y’know what? Haven’t lost yet. It’s not gonna happen.”

“You know you’re slipping.”

“Am not.”

“A full century of deteriorating, of weakening. You can feel it. I can feel it.”

“Shut. Up,” Hiyori spat. “I’m not scared of you. Especially now that I’m not alone.”

“Ooh, I see,” the Hollow sang. “You think he can help you.”

A silent flash of lightning filled the room with white light. Hiyori swallowed dryly.

“That’s adorable,” the Hollow continued. “You think big brother Shinji can just make it all better? He’ll come save the day? Show you how you can suppress me like you used to?”

“H-he can help.”

“Please, he’s just as weak as you are. I saw him, too. I see everything you see, and last night, well…” She grinned. The way she smiled – it was wrong to see her own face twisted in a sick emotion she herself has never felt. Something sadistic, cruel.

The Hollow laughed. “Shinji Hirako has gotten soft. All eight of you have been slowly breaking apart for a hundred years. You must have known it’d be impossible to restrain us forever. It’s only a matter of time until I can break though, to reclaim what’s mine and to finally consume you-,”

“Shut up!”

Another peel of thunder. The Hollow’s smile fell. She narrowed her eyes, staring at her with an unwavering gaze.

“You hear that?” the Hollow. “Storm’s getting closer. Have you ever counted the seconds between the lightning and thunder?”

As if on cue, a flash of light shot through the sky. Hiyori counted despite herself. She only got to ten before the rumble of thunder rolled through again.

The Hollow looked outside. “Not that far off, Hiyori. When that’s storm’s right overhead, it’ll be too late for you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Deny it all you want. But you know the truth. We both know the stronger one of us should be on top. And when this storm passes, you’ll finally understand it’s never been you versus me at all. I’m not some separate entity. We are connected, and I’m only doing what’s best for both us. Even if you win tonight, the storm is only just begun.”

“You’re lying. I’m going to kill you. I’ll fucking destroy you-,”

“Please. You can’t destroy me.”

When the Hollow glanced back, her eyes were glowing intensely, as if she herself was filled with lightning.

“You’ll never destroy me, Hiyori, because I _am_ you.”

Hiyori gasped and woke up in a sharp, sudden, terrible rush. She clutched her chest and nearly coughed up a lung as she rolled over off the futon in the dark room. Her body felt filled with a thick, oozing cold. Her stomach lurched, and a metallic taste coated her mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-,” she said as she gripped her left eye. It felt entirely frozen. When she pulled her hand away, there was the viscous, sticky white material of a Hollow mask attempting to solidify. The pale secretion leaked out of her eye, spreading out and slowly crawling over her cheek and solidifying. She cried out despite herself.

_No,_ she thought simply. _No, not like this. Not now._

She tried to center herself to bind it away, but fear was making it impossible to focus. She could feel the Hollow surging inside her soul, breaking up to a higher level than ever before. It was getting harder these past few months, but it hadn’t ever gotten this bad. Each time was worse than the time before, but this was the first time she ever felt it – the genuine, palpable fear she might actually lose.

_Shit,_ she thought. _I might actually die this time._

Two strong hands on her shoulders snapped her out of it. She stared at a panicked Shinji. He knelt in front of her, looking between her and the white gunk of the mask spilling out of her eye.

“Hiyori, what- oh, no,” he breathed. She wasn’t used to seeing him look scared, like he was reflecting the dread and panic that she was feeling. But there was something else in his eyes that was like a lighthouse to her sinking ship – a familiar intensity, a poise, a certainty. Like when he was a captain. A cry caught in her throat.

The reassurance at seeing that fire in his eyes caused her to tear up. Emboldened, she took a deep, shaking breath and began to regain the focus she needed.

“I got this, Shinji,” she said through heavy gasps as she squeezed his arms. She felt the familiar bindings inside her soul, and she pushed the Hollow back down through nothing but sheer, reinvigorated will. “I got this.”

It felt like an eternity, but like every time before, Hiyori subdued the Hollow deep inside. The icy pangs of pain slowly faded from her body. The white resin dried from her eye. The beginnings of the mask cracked off her sweaty face and shattered on the floor.

For a moment, they just sat frozen when it was all over. They both were breathing hard, shaking with nerves, Shinji gripping her shoulders and staring at her while Hiyori looked down at the broken shards of the white mask that lay between them in the dark room. After a beat, Shinji tenderly guided her into his arms, and she allowed herself to soak in the rare sense of safety. Her arms wrapped around his warm back, and she nearly could have cried.

“How long,” Shinji began, his voice no more than a whisper.

“Usually takes me five minutes or so to get control back, so-,”

“No,” he said. His voice was clear, hard. “How long has it been this bad?”

Hiyori bit her lip. He sighed.

“Wait…wait. Let’s reset first, then we can talk,” he said. His voice and actions were imbued with a gentleness Hiyori hadn’t experienced in quite a long time.

“Yeah…okay.”

After fully assuring him she was really fine, Shinji lent her a towel so she could rinse off and bathe in his tiny bathroom while he made breakfast. She obliged, absconding into the bathroom and filling the tub. She stared at the rush of water, her mind silent as she peeled everything off, quickly rinsed off, and then got in.

It felt good to be surrounded by the warmth of the water. She tried to relax, although the memory of the Hollow’s chill still lingered. She felt an alien sensation in her body, a tenseness in her chest that had started up within these past few months and she couldn’t ever shake.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she blow-dried her hair, staring hard at the corner of her left eye where there was a prick of black that never fully went away either, even though she certainly sealed the Hollow away. Just not sealed good enough, it seemed.

She had to fend off the Hollow more frequently than ever before, and even though Hiyori always won, she felt like she was winning by a smaller margin each time. Hiyori didn’t like to think about it, but she couldn’t ignore it anymore. The Hollow was right. She didn’t have much time left at before she truly lost.

She walked back into Shinji’s office that was functioning as her guest room and noticed Shinji had cleaned up the remnants of the mask fragments and had taken the sheets where the white ooze had fallen.

It was strange, but good to know she wasn’t alone anymore. For now, at least, she was safe. She hadn’t wanted Shinji to see all that, either, but now he really knew why she came to him. He had to know everything.

She took a deep breath to punctuate her resolve.

She changed into a sweatshirt and shorts and walked barefoot out into the kitchen where she saw Shinji’s lean back working on something over the oven.

Warm morning light spilled into the bright, little space through orange beaded curtains that hung over the large open window. Despite the cold teal tiles on her feet, the room itself was wonderfully homey and well-lived in. The countertops surrounding the perimeter of the room were a bright white, and the light wood shelves above were full of little knick-knacks and mismatched mugs and potted plants and various containers of instant coffee, salty snacks, and high-quality mixers. The island in the center had a pile of magazines and envelopes in the middle, and it was surrounded by four tall, matching orange barstools on each side. Soft jazz came from a nearby record player, and a sweet aroma hung in the air. The room was actually pretty cute, with a retro flair that vaguely reminded her of the seventies.

“Your place is mad tacky.”

“Why, thank you,” Shinji said with that toothy grin of his as he turned back to see her. He regarded her with a nervousness but didn’t say anything as he went back to working on whatever he was preparing.

“Smells good,” she said. “What’re you cooking?”

Two waffles popped out of the toaster. She walked over and plucked one out to nibble on as she got comfy on a barstool. Shinji laughed.

“I don’t actually cook.”

“Should’ve figured that much. Lazy.”

“Your kindness always warms my heart, Hiyori. The music though,” he said, pointing to the lime green record player in the corner, “The record is ‘Cookin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet.’ At least I’m on theme.”

“You really leaned into this whole human thing, huh?”

Shinji made a face and shrugged. He had changed from last night, now wearing simply a band t-shirt and striped shorts.

Hiyori had gotten over the initial oddity of seeing everyone so…human…back at Urahara’s all those decades ago. She wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing everyone so informally when they were all Captains and Lieutenant Captains. But after a while of being by themselves, the eight of them all loosened on the formalities and rituals that had so rigidly informed their lives in the Soul Society. The uniforms were the first to go and get replaced with whatever they liked best, and soon they all let go of the titles and the distance, too. They did go through hell together. They’ve seen each other at their absolutely lowest, and they were closer for it. Life on Earth was made a bit easier, at least when they were all still together.

But Shinji really embraced his new life in a way Hiyori never did. She didn’t get it. She didn’t especially like it, either.

“This apartment, the club,” she said, resting her head on her palm as Shinji made them coffee. “Why’d you do it?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Like, what’s it all for?”

“That’s…kinda a weird question.” He looked off, staring out the window to the busy city street below. The sounds of cars and distant conversations could still be heard from up here. The sky above the tall buildings was a near perfect, cloudless blue. Shinji glanced back with a placid expression.

“Well, I guess it’s just what I wanted to do, so that’s why. I mean, what else were we supposed to do? We all gave up on finding a cure, and I know I gave up on getting back into the Soul Society.” He walked over and sat the two mugs on the table. “What, are you saying you’re trying to get back?”

“To the goddamn Soul Society? Fuck no. That place can suck it.”

He gave a small laugh. “Yeah, so you get it? We might as well enjoy what we got now, right? When in Rome, as they say.”

“No one really says that.”

“Yes, they do. Maybe you should hang out with humans more.”

“I only met, like, three tolerable ones and they all fuckin’ died already.”

“I’m sorry, Yori.”

She shrugged and reached for the coffee, drinking it black and savoring the bitter taste. It was actually pretty good, or maybe she just hadn’t had a warm, homey breakfast experience in a few years. She wasn’t sure. She was surprised at how quickly she felt comfortable in such a tiny place, but it was Shinji’s place. The whole house felt like him. So, it kind of felt like home.

“You got a lot of hair products, too,” she mumbled. “Which is funny, since you’re gonna be bald someday. You’ll save thousands on shampoo and conditioner.”

“That’s not true,” he said, reflexively flattening out the bowl cut. “And let’s be real, Hiyori…” Shinji’s tone dropped to a note of earnest seriousness. The record needle slipped up; the song had ended. “You didn’t just come here for old time’s sake, did you?”

Hiyori stared into her coffee, watching the tiny black pool quiver in her hands, sending small ripples on the surface.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, if you want…”

“No. No, you’re right,” she said quickly. “You’re right. I missed you the most but there’s another reason I’m here, which is probably pretty obvious by now.”

Shinji sat down on the bar stool nearby and looked at her with a gentle, worried gaze. She didn’t realize her body was tensed until he put his hand on her shoulder, and she shakily let out a nervous breath.

“So, I’ll back up first,” she began.

“Okay.”

“It was really luck that I saw you in Shibuya.” Her voice felt frustratingly small, but she couldn’t help it. She was hoping she could go without mentioning this part, but she felt he deserved to know. “Really, truth be told, I didn’t find you yesterday. I first saw you a month ago. And I followed you here, so I’ve known you’ve been around for some time, but I just couldn’t face you.”

“Really? A month?” He seemed pensive all of a sudden, lost in thought, perhaps retracing the last month of what he’d been up to.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t follow you around all the time. I just made a mental note where your place was, and I steered clear. Mostly since, well, I didn’t want you to see me like this. I wanted to get it under control, but I can’t. I’ve been a fuckin’ mess, Shinji. The…the Hollow has…well, fuck. You saw. It’s getting really, really bad.”

“Do you still see her? When you sleep?”

“Yeah. Way more than usual.”

“And what does she say?”

“Same old, same old, y’know. Gonna consume my soul and take over and all that, but I think now…I think she’s right.” Hiyori squeezed the mug so hard in her hands, the cup nearly cracked under the strain. Hiyori said the next part in a rush before she lost her nerve.

“I’m really losing, Shinji. Each time is harder and it just keeps happening more and more and I don’t have much time left before the storm hits and I’m really fucking screwed and she really does eat my soul.”

Shinji stared at her. The silence between them lasted for some time, broken up only by the ambient noise outside from the city below.

Shinji’s hand on her shoulder shook slightly. He withdrew it.

“So, that’s it, really,” Hiyori said softly. “I’m not sure how much time is left. Not just for me, but for all of us.” She let her hands drop into her lap, staring at her short nails and clammy palms. “The Hollow, she said we’re all gonna fall apart. A hundred years have passed. It’s a miracle we lasted this long, but if I’m already fighting this hard…then the others…then you…”

“Don’t worry about me.”

She scoffed. “Don’t act so fuckin’ tough. Of course, I’m worried about you. Because tell me to my face that it isn’t getting worse. You’re fighting harder too, aren’t you? I can bet your Hollow is getting stronger, just like mine, just like everyone’s probably is too.” She paused, her heart throbbing hard in her chest. “Hachi, Love, Rose, Lisa, Kensei, Mashiro…we’re all going to be eaten alive if we don’t do something about it.”

Shinji got up, pacing nervously around the kitchen. He looked like a caged wildcat at a zoo, back and forth, eyes level and betraying no emotion now.

“That’s why I’m here, Shinj, not to just solve my shit,” Hiyori said with determination, “but you gotta help me find the others. We have to fix this, before we all lose.”

“It’s impossible.”

_“…What?”_

She stared incredulously as his lanky frame moved back and forth.

“I don’t- I haven’t a clue how to…” he trailed off. “Hiyori, I don’t know what the hell I can do to help. I don’t know where they all are. I haven’t trained in decades. I haven’t even touched my sword in a good quarter a century. I couldn’t face them…I can't… Shit, I’m fuckin’ useless. I’m just really useless-”

Hiyori bolted up and grabbed him mid-pace, stopping him dead in his tracks.

She squeezed hard on his arms, so hard she knew she was going to leave marks, but the anger inside her was completely ignited, setting off dynamite in her chest. Anger, that was something familiar Hiyori knew how to handle. It kept her warm, and unlike the cold pain of the Hollow, anger was hot and intense and _hers._

“You asshole,” she said darkly. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Huh?” he asked simply. That set her off.

She delivered what she felt was an extremely beautiful upper cut right into the middle of his face. Shinji reeled back into the wall with a solid, satisfying thump as he held a hand to his bleeding nose.

“Hiyori, what the_ fuck?!”_

“You might be worse off than me right now!” Hiyori shouted. “Do you even hear yourself? I may be losing to my Hollow, and I may have been majorly sucking at life this past century, but at least I haven’t lost myself. At least I remember how to fight.”

“I told you. I can’t fight anymore-,”

“Not literally fight, you idiot.” She walked up and reeled her arm back, but the punch deflated before she even threw it. Her hand fell with a dull thud on his chest and rested over his heart. The warmth of his body radiated into her palm through his shirt. She could feel his pulse thud fast under her fingertips as they stood there.

“Here, you stupid ex-captain. Fighting in here. That’s what I came for, but maybe…” She let her hand fall. “Maybe who I’m looking for isn’t here anymore.”

She walked off out of the kitchen, and he didn’t follow her. She pulled on her shoes at the door and walked out. She left everything behind since she wasn’t leaving for good. She just needed air. And she knew he needed time.

“Hurry up and remember who you are, baldy,” she muttered as she climbed the stairs towards the roof. “Remember why you were our leader all those years ago. Hope you didn’t completely forget.”

But she didn’t have all the time in the world to wait. All eight of them didn’t have much time at all. She needed Shinji’s help if they were going to win, but it looks like he needed her help, too.


	3. Shinji - 99 years ago

“They look up to you,” Kisuke said with a gentle smile. Shinji scoffed, staring down at the wine glass in his hands. The two men sat alone in Kisuke’s study, legs under a kotatsu as nighttime snow fell outside.

The house was quiet. Everyone else was asleep, exhausted from a full day of training. They had only been away from the Soul Society for three months, but Kisuke Urahara had helped them come so far. After months of work, they had finally gotten to a place where they could feel more in control than ever. Although, their training revealed they still had a long way to go of balancing their new hybrid souls.

“How are you feeling?” Kisuke asked. Shinji knew this commonly asked question was laced with not only personal concern but a scientific inquisitiveness. Shinji shifted in his spot, scanning the tightness in his body that had loosened over the past few weeks.

“Better, but it’s still not the same,” he admitted.

Kisuke’s gaze softened. “I don’t think it’ll ever be the same. Even just sparing today nearly brought everyone to the brink.”

“It’ll take practice,” Shinji said with resolve. “Feeling the balance inside and finding what works. It’s trial and error. But whatever cure you concocted is working.”

“It’s not a cure,” Kisuke noted. “I didn’t cure anything, but you’re right. We’ll keep trying.”

“Yeah.”

A silence fell between them. Kisuke knocked back the last of his second glass of wine and poured the remaining red liquid from the bottle into his and Shinji’s glass. Shinji wasn’t sure why, but Kisuke confided a great deal to him during these small meetings. They happened quite regularly. Just the two of them, usually sharing a drink in Kisuke’s study or out in the back garden. It was only ever focused on the progress they were making and occasionally some nostalgic reminiscing, if the two of them got tipsy enough. But the odd scientist would always get up and head to bed alone at the end, or he’d wander off to another part of their current hide-out, leaving Shinji feeling befuddled. Certainly happier but also mildly perplexed. 

“You still didn’t really answer my question,” Shinji said, accepting the refreshed glass as Kisuke sat back comfortably. “Why am I getting a sense I’m the leader here?”

Kisuke glanced up at the ceiling. The room was dim, lit only by a couple candles and the moonlight reflected off the snow from outside. Kisuke mulled this over before replying.

“You’re clearly the most in control of your Hollow, and the others can see that. You always last the longest in any training. And you lasted the longest that first night.”

Shinji hummed into his drink, suppressing those awful memories quickly and efficiently. “All that doesn’t make a leader, though.”

“Well, maybe it’s not so much skill but how you handle things. People look for something sturdy to hold onto when everything is falling apart. You’re like a constant to them, y’know? And you said something pretty similar to me a long time ago,” Urahara said with a grin. “Something like, if you want to be a good leader, just be yourself? I think the others appreciate that even though you’re all going through hell, somebody’s still always joking and smiling through it.”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘always’.”

Kisuke raised his eyebrows. “I call ‘em as I see ‘em. All eight of you were leaders back in the Soul Society, but fact of the matter is you’re handling this the best of anybody right now.”

Shinji burst out laughing. “Oh, hell no. I am not.”

“You’re still laughing, so I think you’re doing pretty good.”

Shinji sat, pensive for a moment. “The past few months have been shit for all of us, but we’ll get through it. We’ll be fine once everyone gets the hang of dealing with our…” Hollows. Shinji still didn’t like to say it out loud. He swallowed and looked outside. “Dealing with everything,” he finished quickly.

Kisuke was sharp. Shinji knew he was reading him. Kisuke had to keep a close eye on all eight of them to see if the Quincy-Shinigami-Hollow vaccine was working. And it was working, to a certain degree. Ever since Kisuke administered it last month, all eight of the Vizards could successfully stay lucid and not randomly lose control. For the first time, they could keep their bodies and minds stable, but that didn’t mean they were totally fine. There was still the matter of feeling that new weight in their soul, that new part of themselves inside that was constantly struggling to break loose.

“You still haven’t told me,” Kisuke started, and Shinji knew exactly where he was going. “You haven’t told anyone what you do when you see the Hollow yourself.”

“Like when I sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Right…”

“I answer your questions, you answer mine, yeah?”

Shinji appraised the other man. Behind his typical lighthearted demeanor, Shinji appreciated these moments of directness from Kisuke, belying the strength Shinji knew he possessed. Shinji used to think of himself as a good judge of character. Aizen proved he wasn’t as good as he thought, but still, he felt drawn to the enigma of Kisuke Urahara in a similar way as he was drawn to Aizen. There was something much deeper behind the veneer, like the knowledge of swimming on the surface of a bottomless ocean. At least with Kisuke, he knew it was a benevolent intensity, or at its worst, a neutral, scientific curiosity.

Shinji smiled. “I haven’t told anyone for a reason. I’m not proud of it. Plus, I don’t get why it’s such a big deal anyway.”

“Everyone meets their Hollows, seemingly at random, at least once a week. It’s an unnerving experience, creating a psychic fissure that the Hollow can utilize as foothold to gain control. These meetings only manifested after the vaccine, as the rigid division between the Hollow and the Vizard’s soul was solidified, allowing for the creation of the temporal meeting space and a concrete spiritual boundary separating Hollow’s consciousness and your own.”

“Yeah. Pretty technical. So…what?”

“So why are you seeing your Hollow so much more? Almost every night? And you’d be led to conclude that’s a weakness, but oddly enough you’re holding it off the best.”

“Hmm. Yup, pretty weird.”

Kisuke smiled darkly. “The others report they can’t leave these meeting rooms, and they just have to talk with the Hollows or ignore them until they wake up, usually having to immediately focus on the binding techniques to keep their center and repress the Hollows upon waking. And I’ve seen you wake up every morning with no problems at all.”

“I’m just a morning person.”

“Shinji,” Kisuke reached out, holding Shinji’s shoulder firmly. Shinji stared at his strong hand, feeling something hot and unexpected surge through his body.

_Oh, _he thought simply.

“This isn’t a matter of personal curiosity. I have to know this,” Kisuke said, his hand slightly tightening on Shinji’s shoulder. “Private things are private, but not to sound drastic. This is life and death. I have to do everything I can to save you.”

Shinji blinked, taking in the moment as it slowly unfolded. “I know.”

“So, what is it? When you wake up in that room, with the Hollow, what do you do?”

Shinji’s heart was racing, thinking to the nearly nightly meetings with the Hollow - the man who looked exactly like him but felt so unbelievably cold. Nothing like the enticing warmth from Kisuke’s hand or the rapidly rising heat Shinji felt coursing through his own body. Shinji adjusted in his seat, legs grazing against Kisuke’s as they sat under the table.

If Shinji wasn’t so distracted back in the Soul Society, he thought blankly, maybe he would’ve thought about how Kisuke was rather handsome.

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else. Promise me. I don’t care if it’s a scientific breakthrough or not,” Shinji said. He looked around the room at the closed doors to assure privacy and leaned in closer. Kisuke also leaned in towards him, sending another thrill through Shinji’s body. So close, he could even smell a trace of wine and some rich, woodsy scent that must be Kisuke. He’d never noticed it before. He had to resist leaning in even further to catch more of it.

Shinji knew he felt a little tipsy, but not enough to feel this wired. He wasn’t used to having so little control. Ever since the Hollow entered his being, he was even more prone to losing himself and having his emotions spiral. The narrowing proximity and the memories of nights spent with the Hollow melded together. Everything was too much, sending his pulse into overtime. A potent, swelling mix that was heady and overwhelming.

His body tightened reflexively, yearning and craving desperately for something more.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Shinji,” Kisuke whispered. “If it’s this hard to say-,”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine. Just…weird.”

Kisuke gave a lopsided smile. Shinji stared at the curve of his lips in the dim light. “Well, this whole life we’re leading is pretty weird, if you think about it,” Kisuke said.

“You really want to know what I do, when I wake up in that room with the Hollow and it’s just me and him?”

Kisuke took a deep breath, eyes flicking between Shinji’s gaze and then lower at his lips, as well. _Could he feel it?_ Shinji wondered. Something had changed in the air, electrifying the space between them.

“I want to know,” Kisuke said, voice husky and warm.

Shinji leaned in those final few inches until they were only a breath apart. The tension was so wonderful that Shinji felt ready to unravel in it all. When Kisuke leaned in too, narrowing their distance to nearly nothing, Shinji wanted to give in. He wanted this.

“I can tell you,” Shinji said with a heated quiet as his hands rose upwards. They slipped gently along Kisuke’s cheeks, fingertips brushing into thick blonde hair. Kisuke’s hand slid up from Shinji’s shoulder and rested hot and heavy on Shinji’s neck. “Or I can show you.”

Kisuke smiled. “Show me.”

So Shinji pressed their lips together. Something felt immediately raw, immediately fervent. They kissed so ardently like they’d been lovers for years. Shinji hadn’t expected how naturally the two of them fell into each other’s arms or how neither one of them was holding back at all.

No time was wasted. In minutes, they were both half-dressed and making-out on the floor, kissing and sucking and biting at any skin they could get to. His neck, his ribs, his waist - Shinji kissed along Kisuke’s whole body and in turn Kisuke left a trail of bites and hickies all over his pale chest.

Shinji knew he had recently felt cooped up and horny, but he had no idea this heat had been simmering between him and Kisuke for so long. Maybe he could’ve guessed, but he didn’t care where this came from or where it would go after tonight. The incredible sounds Kisuke was making and the feeling of their bodies pressed flush together – it all was driving him wild.

That same hidden well of intensity in Kisuke was intoxicating now. He was so good, keen and attentive and maddening. Shinji lingered over him as he kissed Kisuke’s temple, savoring the way Kisuke’s arms wrapped tightly around his chest, large hands holding him in place as Kisuke sucked and worked at Shinji’s neck so hard that a deep mark was surely blossoming. 

Shinji gasped as Kisuke’s thigh slipped between his legs. Shinji whispered breathy curses and praises into the other man’s ear, feeling the soft bristles of Kisuke’s faint beard on his own cheek. The growing, quickening friction between them was rhythmic, enthralling. He needed more.

Shinji sat up on top of him, straddling his hips and pulling loose the belt around Kisuke’s waist. Kisuke smiled, his cheeks flushed red.

“You’re telling me this is what you do?” he said in disbelief through heavy breaths. “You and your Hollow?”

Shinji returned the grin. “Remember you promised not to tell.”

“Unbelievable,” Kisuke said, head falling back to stare at the ceiling as Shinji swiftly removed the rest of his clothes until they were bare on the carpet. 

“We don’t have to…go further…,” Shinji trailed off as Kisuke pulled him back down for a deep, dizzying kiss. Shinji gasped when he felt Kisuke’s warm hands on his hips, inching closer inwards.

“Do you want this?” Kisuke asked.

“Yes.”

A tenseness was building in his chest, and it only magnified when Kisuke’s hand started to work along Shinji’s length. Shinji shuddered a sigh and sucked hard on Kisuke’s neck. His hips bucked forward as Kisuke picked up the pace. But there was something else inside, that alien sensation of something, someone else, there inside him, watching.

“Fuck,” he breathed against Kisuke’s chest. He didn’t want to lose control here. He felt lost for a moment as Kisuke flipped him over on his back. Kisuke straddled him, working their cocks together in his hand. “Oh fuck,” Shinji gasped.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop okay?”

“You’re sure?”

Now it was Shinji’s turn to grab the other man’s face with both hands pull him in for another enthralling kiss. Kisuke didn’t need any further convincing. His hand moved quick, bringing them closer and closer to a rapidly approaching end.

Shinji wanted more. Needed more. But there wasn’t any way he was going to last, especially since his left eye started to feel that creeping coldness edging in towards the center. He gasped, pushing Kisuke down to kiss along his collarbone. “Please,” he begged to both him and the inner Hollow.

The influx, the energy, the nearing climax – it all was too much and Shinji couldn’t help but cry out when Kisuke slipped down and let his tongue slide along Shinji’s cock. Kisuke looked up and froze.

“Shinji, oh fuck, your eye-”

“I-it’s fine.”

Kisuke stopped, and Shinji’s whole body shivered. He was reeling in the sudden break of contact as Kisuke looked into his eye. Shinji knew the white of his eye was stained like spilled ink.

“Is he watching?”

“Got a voyeurism kink, Urahara?”

Kisuke smiled but it quickly deflated. “Are you in control now?”

“I am,” Shinji assured Kisuke and himself.

“Tell me. We can stop whenever. I just want you to be okay.”

“Don’t stop,” Shinji said tensely.

Kisuke hesitated only for a second before he resumed, pumping his hand fast and tight around them both.

Immediately, Shinji felt pulled under, swept away in an ocean of overpowering sensations. With his new hybrid soul, there were moments like this were everything suddenly felt twofold. Intensified and endless. Magnified feelings reflecting back on each other, like two mirrors facing one another. It was dizzying, overwhelming, and incomprehensibly beautiful.

“Shinji,” Kisuke sighed. Shinji groaned.

“Oh, I want you to fuck me.”

“Next time. And I have a bed so we don’t have to fuck on the ground like this.”

_Next time_, Shinji thought in a haze. He pushed his palm against his closed left eye and used his other hand to thread through Kisuke’s hair and they both got closer and closer to the edge and Shinji could feel the bindings inside him shudder as the Hollow struggled to break through. He was so close. They both were so close. He wasn’t going to make it-

Shinji gasped. He felt his heart nearly explode in his chest and he cried out.

“Oh, fuck, Sousuke-”

And he came in a guilty rush as Kisuke came almost immediately after.

They breathed in deep, shaking breaths as Kisuke held himself poised over Shinji’s body. They both were sweaty and trembling, but Shinji was the only one who said an ex-lover’s name when he came.

“Fucking shit, I’m so sorry.” Shinji propped up on his elbows and felt his face flush. “You know I… I didn’t mean…”

“Well, I learned a lot from this tonight,” Kisuke said, slipping back into his lax, casual air. He leaned away and avoided Shinji’s eyes. “I’m guessing…well, Sousuke Aizen isn’t a name I’d expect to hear from you in bed…unless…”

“You can say it. Maybe we weren’t as secret about it as we thought back then.”

“I had my suspicions,” Kisuke said with a shrug. “I don’t care. Really, Shinji. It’s fine. So you two hooked up once or twice or…”

“…Or for years.”

Kisuke’s expression didn’t betray anything as he silently took this in. Shinji felt his left eye twitch, the cold pain waning as the Hollow retreated back down. Maybe the Hollow concluded Shinji’s own shame and guilt were a good enough win for now.

Shinji slid up and away. He gathered his clothes and redressed quickly.

“Well, thanks for…thanks for that,” Shinji said as he straightened out his tangled hair. “As you can see, I’m pretty fucked up at the moment. A bit worse for wear and a bit weaker than I’d like. Quite a mess, really. So I get it. Totally understand if you need some space after all this.”

“Not at all. Shinji, wait-,” Kisuke said, getting up and catching his shoulder before Shinji could leave. “It’s okay. No worries at all, and there can still be a next time, too,” he said softly. “But more importantly, I hope you know…”

Kisuke paused. With gentle movements, he spun Shinji back around to face him. Shinji immensely enjoyed the way the other man swept a loose strand of Shinji’s hair back into place. He took in the sensations of his tender contact as Kisuke’s hands slid down and found his own, lacing their fingers together.

“I don’t mean to sound dramatic here, but you know you’re incredible, right?” Kisuke said earnestly. “After everything, all that you’ve done…I hope you know how strong you are.”

Shinji knew his face was probably conveying his earnest confusion.

“Huh? Me?”

Kisuke laughed. “Yeah, you.”

“Kisuke, I…I’m not. I'm not strong at all. I just told you I fuck around with my inner Hollow almost every night, and I was hooking up with my lieutenant captain for years and _still_ missed he was plotting to kill Shinigami and overthrow the world as we know it. I barely can keep control of my soul, and I can't even fight anymore...but, yeah, that’s real strength right there.”

Kisuke sighed. He moved closer until their bodies were flush together, and Kisuke rested his head on Shinji’s shoulder. Shinji felt something gentle blossom inside his chest, not like the intensity before, but something kind and easy, like a calm sky after a storm.

They stood close in the dark winter night for a moment. Shinji felt the gentle motions of Kisuke’s body moving with every breath.

“Even when your world gets turned upside down, you don’t give up,” Kisuke said. “That’s strength. That’s why they want to follow you.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting a pep talk after a hand job.”

Kisuke laughed. Something bright and wonderful about his face made Shinji realize that, if he wasn’t careful, he might fall in love with Kisuke Urahara.

Boundaries. He had felt a yearning like this before. But it couldn’t happen again. Not again. Not like Aizen.

Kisuke redressed. The two of them didn’t touch again, but the air was comfortable and quiet. "I should go," Shinji said softly. 

"See you tomorrow," Kisuke returned with a gentle smile.

Shinji left the room, sliding the door close behind him. He walked down the freezing hallway. The whole house was imbued with the winter chill through the thin walls. He was going to hurry back to his room, but he paused by a tall window that looked out into the night.

The snowy downpour hadn’t let up, but the tumbling snow melted as it fell onto the surface of the nearby river. The dark water continued to rush along through the woods, undeterred by the winter storm.

“Of course, I can’t give up,” he whispered to himself. He couldn’t. There was still so much to fight for. He knew he wasn’t doing the best job at it, but he would keep surviving. Not just for him, but for all of them. If he was the de facto leader, then so be it. He’d do his best.


	4. Shinji

Shinji hadn’t spoken to Kisuke in decades.

He sat in the kitchen, holding a mug of now cold coffee and idly rummaging through the envelopes in the center of the table. He wanted to give her time. 

Hiyori had been gone for half an hour, and Shinji had spent that much time glancing at an unopened letter from Kisuke Urahara, debating whether or not to open it. This envelope, unlike the other occasional letters Kisuke had sent before, actually had a return address. Karakura Town_. To think that this whole time, he wasn’t that far away,_ Shinji mused. He couldn’t help but get lost in thought about Kisuke for some time, memories flickering in and out like stars.

Dazed and guilty, he got up to put on a different record on the player but nothing felt right. His hands froze up along the spines of the album sleeves on the shelf, shaking slightly.

‘_You’re handling this the best of anyone_,’ Kisuke had said that night nearly a hundred years ago.

“Well, so much for that,” Shinji muttered grimly. Shinji was certain it was best if Hiyori just leave him out of this one. The others would be better off, he reasoned, without him.

Shinji felt like he failed as their leader. He often felt an unbearable, heavy guilt when he’d think of the other Vizards. It was an excruciating shame and unfaded remorse, filling his soul to the brim with regret. It was obvious, to him, that he faltered when it mattered most – abandoning them when things got hard and then losing them all over again even when he returned. He couldn’t keep them together. He couldn’t find a way for them to go on, and everyone splintered off, dissatisfied with their new lives and unable to return to their old home. He hadn’t helped them at all.

Of course, what Hiyori said terrified him. They all were running out of time, and he knew he was getting weaker, too. Even if Shinji had his own ways to keep his Hollow in check, he knew that couldn’t last forever. They had to do something. But as much as he wanted to help, he couldn’t.

He was weaker now. So embarrassingly weak, and he couldn’t stand the idea of facing everyone again. He wasn’t sure what he could possibly be able to do to help any of them, anyway.

Kisuke said he was strong for not giving up. Shinji scoffed to himself. 

He knew he gave up a long time ago.

Shinji looked at the letter one last time, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He instead got up, got dressed, and headed up the stairs to the roof where he was pretty sure Hiyori was there waiting for him.

When he opened the door to the empty rooftop, Hiyori was sitting on the far edge of the building, staring down at the streets below. Shinji walked over and kicked his legs over the ledge to sit next to her.

She offered him a cigarette and he declined. “I don’t care that you do, but they smell godawful, Hiyori.”

“I forgot how particular you are about smells.” She flicked the lighter on and off as she worked something over in her mind. “So, did you have an epiphany or should I go with plan B?”

“Oh, there’re plans now?”

“Yeah, plan A was I’d find you, we’d agree to go save our friends, and we’d be outta here by lunch time. It’s,” she checked her watch, “quarter to one, so I’m guessing plan A is out?”

"I’m just not who you need, Hiyori,” Shinji said gently. “Maybe I was decades ago, but you’re right. I don’t think who you’re looking for is here anymore.”

“So, you’re fine letting me and everyone else just succumb to our inner Hollows? Real nice.”

“No. Of course not. I have Urahara’s address. You’ll go to him and he’ll help.”

“And I’ll just leave you to die, then?”

“I can manage.”

“So you’re not coming with me?”

“I just…can’t. There’s nothing I can do.”

She groaned loudly and pocketed the lighter. “For fuck’s sake, Shinji. You’re gonna really make me go to plan B. By the way, just to double check, do you ever just flex your Shinigami powers every now and then? Channel the ol’ reishi? Walk through air on the way back from the grocery and things like that?”

He returned her wry smile. “I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

“Trust me, baldly, and answer my question. Could you, if you wanted to?”

“Sometimes, if I’m feeling solid enough.” He mulled this over. “I think I can hover for a while and maybe travel a bit, but I usually don’t.”

“It feels kinda good, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Do you kinda miss it, too? Having control, feeling the rush of energy, all that?”

Shinji gripped the ledge hard. “I do. But it’s dangerous to use too much and risk losing balance. Plus, it’s tricky enough as it is to avoid detection.”

Hiyori’s devious grin caught him off guard. She pushed the cigarette into the concrete of the roof and laughed.

“Alright, well, time for plan B, then. And you know humans don’t see shit sometimes. I think if there was an award for avoiding detection, Shinigami would get second place. Vizards, first. One hundred years and look at us.”

“Yeah, look at us. Vizards are really something.”

“Sarcastic asshole.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “Also…sorry about your wonky nose when I punched you.”

"Wait, are you apologizing for something? Can I get this on record?”

“Fuck off. I know you’re in a low spot. Don’t wanna kick you when you’re down too much.”

“Such compassion.”

“Such snark. Anyway,” she said as she got up. “Ready to go on a little trip?”

Shinji looked up at her. She ushered him to stand as well, and he felt a list of things pile up in his mind. “Well, I can’t leave right now. I have to be back to open the club at five, and I think I left the coffee maker on. I have a few emails waiting if I could get those out of the way, so if we’re going far, then-,”

She groaned loudly to cut him off. “You are driving me up a wall. Just get ready to fuckin’ fly, Captain.”

She leapt up impossibly high, catching herself easily in the air with her reishi. It was like she was standing on an invisible surface, but Shinji knew she was just expertly channeling her spirit energy to effortlessly keep herself in midair.

She meandered over, looking down with a grin as she walked through the sky and over the open street.

“What’s wrong, old man?” she called down, hands in her pockets as she moved with ease. “Forgot how to get the ol’ spirit energy moving, huh? Must be hard after so long, and at your age.”

"First off, I haven’t forgotten. Second off, I’m not much older than you.”

“What? Can’t hear you from way down there,” she called. Her laugh was obnoxiously loud. Shinji scoffed with a smile.

“You’re impossible.”

“Take a leap of faith, Shinji. Come on, we don’t have forever.”

“Fine. Fucking fine.” He cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath. He really hadn’t done this in a while. He felt a small pang of nervousness but also a rising excitement. Hiyori was right, it did feel good to channel spirit energy, and something about her being here with him made him feel more confident than usual, too.

He scanned his soul, checking his soul and securing his control. Once he felt sure enough of himself, just like he used to do countless times decades ago, he leaped up in the air to join her.

Shinji had a split second of fear before he reflexively focused a long-unused part of his soul, concentrating his reishi downwards, and catching himself on a plane of air over the middle of the street. He swore as struggled for balance, eventually channeling a proper amount of energy to the right parts of his body, keeping him aloft.

“Nice,” Hiyori said, casually walking over through the sky towards him. “And I was worried you’d forgotten and I’d have to catch your ass.”

“I haven’t forgotten everything,” he said.

Just to flex, he hopped up a few yards and reversed his energy. The world spun brilliantly. A rush of vertigo hit him as his body flipped. He landed upside-down, unaffected by gravity and standing a dizzying height over the ground.

He softly gasped.

Shinji hadn’t seen Tokyo from this angle in quite a long time. Buildings seeming to hang from the top of the world, ending in an endless sea of sky below.

He sighed. He missed this. He hadn’t realized how much he truly missed this view, this feeling.

“Show off,” Hiyori said as she caught up, still staying right-side-up as she walked below him. “So, you’re not as rusty as I thought.”

“Old habits and all that. Like riding a bike, isn’t it?”

“You good for a little trip?”

“Probably, but not too far. Where are we going?”

She looked up at him, eyes bright with some secret plan. “Just try to keep up, Hirako. Yokohama isn’t too far.”

“All the way to Yokohama? Wait, you’re joking- _Hiyori!”_

But she was already dashing ahead, inhumanly fast but not faster than Shinji could keep up with, either. He ran, accelerating and catching up with her as they soared, cutting over the skyline of the city and further out over the water of the bay.

Shinji couldn’t remember the last time he felt this wildly exhilarated. It was an incredible rush to move this fast through the sky, engulfed in wind and sprinting as fast as he could. He could feel every part of him brimming with energy. Channeling it all wasn’t as easy as it used to be, as he expected, but it was like dusting off an old book and peeling apart the pages. It only got easier as they moved faster and faster toward nearby Yokohama.

But now that floodgates of his soul were thrown open, he could feel a mounting tension as the Hollow strained inside, waiting for him to falter. Kicking up this much energy was invigorating for them both. He had to be careful.

Soon, from his upside-down angle, the nearby city emerged over the ceiling of the horizon.

They slowed over the harbor, walking high above the skyscrapers by the waterfront. Shinji felt slightly light-headed staring directly down at the bustling shopping mall and glittering amusement park below them. A nearby Ferris Wheel spun slowly, and he felt a wave of nausea watching it. He was really out of practice, he thought. He usually wasn’t rattled by such dizzying heights. 

Shinji spun himself around, landing right-side-up beside Hiyori. She paused, strands of hair dancing in the wind as she gazed over the expanse of ocean beyond the city. On such a clear day, the blue of the sea seemed to meld with the sky, creating gradient of sapphire tones. 

“I won’t lie, sometimes Earth can be kinda beautiful,” she said softly.

Shinji smiled. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“You holding up okay?”

Shinji nodded. “Rusty as hell but I'm good. You?”

“Same." She looked back at the city, eyes searching for something and then pointing. “Okay, now part two of plan B. We need to get in the twenty-fifth car of that Ferris wheel over there.”

Shinji glanced over at the huge, slowly rotating Ferris wheel and it’s multi-colored cabins. “Oddly specific.”

“I planted something in there for plan B.”

“Again, extremely specific. How convoluted is this plan?” he asked as they walked towards the lively amusement park. The sounds of roller coasters and distant conversations melded with the crashing waves and gulls of the nearby harbor. Hiyori shrugged and waved a hand.

“I figured you’d need plan B, and you know I spent years working with Urahara. You learn how to think up some pretty wild shit. Speaking of which, here comes our ride.”

They started to descend, but instead of getting fully on the ground as Shinji expected, Hiyori walked right up to the Ferris wheel and hovered near one car that was reaching the peak. Number 25. The door had been closed with a padlock, but she produced a key, snapped it open, and hoisted the door open, all as the car moved gradually upwards. Shinji checked but they truly had gone unnoticed. They both knew how to mask their presence enough to avoid detection, but no one else was even in sight. The other two cars on either side of 25 were also empty. 

“Hop on in,” she said as she swung through the door.

Shinji shakily held onto the door frame and stepped in. He sighed when his feet made contact with the floor of the Ferris wheel’s car and his soul simmered down. He didn’t realize how exhausted he was until he didn’t have to focus his energy anymore.

“Holy fuck, we are taking the train back home,” he said as he wiped his brow.

“Did you know this is the biggest digital clock in the world?” Hiyori said as she sat on one of the two benches in the cabin. The space was tiny and the gap between the two benches was narrow. She propped her feet up on the other bench across from her and got comfy, staring out the glass window as they gently rotated higher over the city. “There’s a clock face in the center of the Ferris wheel, so that makes this just one big clock you can ride. Pretty wild, huh?”

“Wow, I bet it took a _wheely_ long time to build this.”

"Unbelievable."

Shinji laughed and sat next to her. The glass gondola was moving at a blissfully slow pace. He looked out, admiring the sundrenched city as it rose all around them.

“Do you remember the first Ferris wheel we rode?” Hiyori asked. “It was like, uh, 1900 something. The eight of us went on that world tour, just wandering around looking for a cure. There was that Ferris wheel in Vienna. It was smaller than this one, but pretty cute.”

“Oh, that's right,” Shinji said as he conjured up those old memories. “Wow, I haven’t thought of that trip we took in years. I really can’t remember much.”

“Hmm,” Hiyori hummed with a grin. “Sure wish someone brought a photo album or something. Oh, wait, I did.”

She reached under her seat, popped open a small door, and out tumbled a little blue photo book. Shinji stared at it incredulously as she dusted off the cover and held it to him.

“Planted this bad boy in here yesterday. Figured we would end up needing it.”

“You…you planned all this? You could’ve just brought this to my place.”

“And where’s the fun in that? You love unnecessary showmanship.”

“That’s true. I do.” He looked at her, and he couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten with some powerful emotion. “You did all this for me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too worked up. We have maybe ten minutes before we gotta get off the wheel and deal with all that, so just look at the book.”

Shinji obliged, opening the thick cover of the photo album to look through the glossy pages. He hadn’t remembered Hiyori keeping this album at all, but she had so many photographs from those first ten years. Each old picture was lovingly placed in the album, capturing so many memories Shinji could recall but hadn’t physically ever seen like this before.

“These are all when we were still together,” Shinji said quietly. She nodded. He paused at one group photo. All eight Vizards were in the shot, so they must have gotten someone to take a picture of them. They were sitting on the deck of an immense passenger ship, all dressed in the styles of the late 1900s. Despite being so long ago, their faces all looked exactly the same.

“Look, that’s when Love and Rose grew mustaches,” Hiyori said. “Fuckin’ wild.”

“Hachi thought it was hilarious. Who’s this other woman with Lisa?”

“One of her paramours. God, she was like too smooth. And then we have these two goobers.” Hiyori pointed at Mashiro and Kensei who, no surprise, were mid-make out during the photo. “Two of them couldn’t be separated for a goddamn minute once they admitted they were nuts for each other.”

Shinji laughed. “I wonder if they’re still together. They’ve gotta be.”

"Well…there’s one way we could find out,” Hiyori said.

Shinji regarded her with a smile.

“You brought me all the way out here to reminisce, just so I’d be convinced to join you in getting the band back together?”

“Duh, obviously.”

Shinji shook his head, but he couldn’t stop smiling. He flipped through other photos. In some, they were still in their shihakusho uniforms from the very early years. But soon, they started experimenting with different styles. Shinji flipped to one with him and Lisa in complimentary Marlene Dietrich-esque suits.

“You were really into the bun look for a while. Lisa could make a mean French twist, too,” Hiyori said. “You gotta tell me why you chopped it all off.”

“A moment of passion. Story for another time. Oh-,”

He paused, gazing at a single photo of him and Kisuke. It didn’t seem like either of them knew a photo was being taken. They faced away from the camera as they sat together on the porch of Kisuke’s first house where they trained all those years ago.

“Ah yeah, Urahara’s first place up in the mountains,” Hiyori noted. “Fuckin' gnarly times, those early years. And I couldn’t believe you were the one to handle the Hollow stuff the best. You were way ahead of the pack. Still never told us how exactly you dealt with your Hollow, but whatever. It was impressive, y’know? The rest of us felt like we could get there too someday. Kinda inspiring.”

_That’s why they want to follow you._

Shinji felt frozen. The only thing that moved was the skyline outside the windows.

He closed the book softly.

“I’m sorry, Hiyori.” 

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath as a fissure cracked through his soul, something powerful and old shifting and straining for the first time in a long time.

“I’m sorry I let you down. Not just today, but back then. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything. Gently, she placed her hand on his arm, her thumb making soft circles as Shinji realized his eyes were getting wet. He’d been avoiding feeling the past so fully. He’d never said any of this out loud, but he couldn't stop the emotions that were overflowing inside him. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough to keep us all together, or to find us after it all fell apart," he said. “This was our family.”

“Shinji, this_ is_ our family.”

He looked to her. She met his gaze, her eyes determined and similarly glossy with tears.

“We made it,” she said. “We survived all of that shit and we decided we were family. That’s what makes it family anyway. Not who you’re born with or whatever, but that we stuck together.”

“But we didn’t. I left. I left us all and ruined it.”

She shook her head softly. “You always put too much pressure on yourself. Hell, we all put so much pressure on you.” Shinji went to speak but she stopped him before he could say anything. “Don’t forget I left, too, Shinji. We all decided to leave. We just grew apart, and that is nobody’s fault.”

Shinji’s mind was spinning, thoughts racing.

“I thought you were mad,” he said. “For ages, I wondered if you hated me all these years.”

“I kind of hated everything. Still do, but no. I can’t hate you. No one blames you, either, Shinji. When you left, we all felt guilty. We knew we needed some time apart, no big deal.”

He was speechless. He couldn’t form a single thought. Hiyori’s voice cut through so clearly.

“Stop blaming yourself so much. Especially for something that wasn’t your fault.”

He felt coiled and hot. He couldn’t keep it in. He held his palms to his tightly shut eyes.

He hadn’t thought of them as his family in so long. It was intentional, too. It hurt more to think of how much he truly needed them. Now he couldn’t stop feeling years and years of longing for them all to be together again explode in his chest all at once.

“I miss them.”

“I know,” she said. “I do, too.”

The car was nearing the bottom of the wheel. But, all at once, he knew exactly what he had to do.

Suddenly.

Clarity.

A rare moment of perfect clarity. With an intensity he hadn’t experienced in a century. He hadn’t felt so sure of himself and what he had to do in a long time. It was an ephemeral amount of certainty, a beam of perfect sunlight before being partially obscured by clouds of doubt. But feeling that warmth just for a moment was enough.

Shinji got up in the small cabin. Hiyori watched him.

“We’re almost out of time,” he said, letting the gravity of it all finally hit him.

“Yeah, but we can go buy tickets for another round if you like it so much.”

“No, us. You’re right, Hiyori, if we’re struggling with the Hollows, we can’t wait. We have to find them and figure this out together.”

She froze, but after a beat, her smile lit up.

“No shit, so you’ll really come with me?”

Shinji never felt more certain of anything in his life. It wasn’t perfect. He was still terrified out of his mind, but the balance he’d felt for years was starting to shift. Less fear. More determination. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

He nodded. “I will. I’m coming with you.”

Hiyori laughed and got up to hug him tight. “Hell yes,” she said, and then, after a beat and much softer, “Thank you.”

“Thank you, too” he said, holding her tight in return. Seeing her that happy made his whole heart overflow with love. “Thank you.”

When they reached the bottom, he wondered what they looked like to the attendants who confusedly ushered them out of the cabin - two people who apparently never got on the Ferris wheel to begin with, walking out with tears in their eyes and smiling as they headed out towards the city.

“Alright, so you’ll have to pack your bags,” Hiyori said as they walked through the amusement park. “We gotta get to Shikoku.”

“What? Why the hell are we going to Shikoku?”

“I may have no idea where everyone ended up, but I know where one of us probably is, and he _definitely_ knows where everyone else lives, too. Oh shit, wait,” she said suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. Shinji spun around looking for the source of her alarm. “Shinj. Buy me cotton candy.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t got cash. I’ll pay you back. Plus, when in Rome, as they say.”

He laughed. “Yeah, when in Rome.”

They rode the train back to his place. Shinji’s mind was whirling with a to-do list of what to accomplish before they left: he’d have to get his assistant to help manage the club and then he'd have to reschedule tonight’s performers and let his vendors know he’d be out of town for a while. Maybe quite a while. Maybe forever.

As they rode the train, Hiyori fell asleep on his shoulder and these little problems started to seem smaller and smaller. He stared out of the train window and watched as the Ferris wheel shrunk into the distance until it was out of sight.

They were going to find them. He was going to see them all again. Soon, the Vizards would be back together.


End file.
